


and i won't miss the way that you kiss me

by kay_emm_gee



Series: Hands In, Aca-Bitches! [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Mutual Pining, a capella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were supposed to just be a one-night stand, but with a campus this small and friends this connected--by a capella of all things--Bellamy should’ve known better than to get involved with Clarke. And now he sees her everywhere, and she ignores him everywhere. Two can play at that game, or at least try to. And Bellamy is utterly failing at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i won't miss the way that you kiss me

**Author's Note:**

> My brain latched onto the a capella universe in my Wellven fic, plus a friend asked for a fic inspired by King of Wishful Thinking by Go West, thus this.

He shouldn’t have come to a bar this close to campus.

Bellamy glared down at the dregs of his beer, swirling the foamy leftovers. The Factory had been loud for hours now, but he could still hear _her_ laughing, clear and bright, all the way across the room.

“Who peed in your drink?”

Snapping his gaze up, he met Miller’s amused eyes. “Your mother.”

His friend snorted. “Weak, friend. Weak.”

“Shut up. Go buy me another beer.”

“I bought the last round.”

“You dragged me to this kiddy bar. You should buy all of the rounds.”

“Okay, grandpa. Some of us like being around the youths.”

Bellamy looked pointedly at a group of red-cheeked, hazy eyed, gangly boys who were chanting as one of them gulped a shot and then chugged a beer. Then he slowly raised his eyebrows at the giggling group of girls sipping on G&Ts. He could barely tolerate undergrads in the context of a TA. Spending his weekend nights around them was not his idea of time well spent. Still, he hadn’t been out in a while and had been in a good mood to boot when Miller had asked.

They had been two beers in, trash-talking faculty from their respective graduate departments, when a flash of blonde by the door had caught his eye.

Of course Clarke Griffin would come to The Factory tonight, the one night he was here. And obviously they ignored each other like they had been doing for weeks.

He really shouldn’t have left that morning, slipping out of her chilly dorm room without even leaving a note. Waking up in a twin bed with a mostly naked Clarke–who was an  _undergrad_ and a junior at that–had sent his stomach rolling with unease. He was better than that, drunken hookups with a girl barely older than his sister. So Bellamy had run, and eye contact was something neither of them did now.

Basically, he should never have gone to that aca-whatever party looking for his sister. He and Clarke had ended up in an argument, then ended up getting kicked out of the party, screaming at each other in the hall. Somehow their steps had led them back to Clarke’s room, and then she was against the wall, pinned there by his hips, his hands, soft but wild under his touch.

Heat flared at the base of his spine as Bellamy heard her voice from across the bar again. She was singing this time, and the throaty, tantalizing sound pissed him off. He knew too well the vibration that voice sent through her ribcage, how her warm breath danced across his skin when she chuckled into his shoulder. Frowning, he rolled his shoulders to release the tension building there.

“There’s an alley out back if you need to take care of business.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“So who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Miller rolled his eyes. “The blonde who isn’t looking at you as hard as you’re not looking at her.”

“She’s nobody.”

“She’s hot. I mean, objectively speaking, considering I don't swing that way."

Bellamy grunted in displeasure, and Miller laughed deeply, throwing his head back. “Turned you down, did she?”

Instead of answering, he chose to drain his glass of its last drops, airy and foamy as they were.

“You turned her down?” Miller snorted. “Knew you were an idiot.”

“She’s a junior. And knows O.”

“Idiot. With a capital I.”

“At least I didn’t get electrocuted in lab by a freshman. _Twice._ ”

His friend flipped him off, managing to make Bellamy twist his lips into something resembling a smile. He drummed his fingers on the table for a few seconds, then his leg started shaking.

“God, you’re a mess,” Miller sighed dramatically. “Go and get us another round before I break your kneecap.”

Bellamy kicked his friend’s chair, violently, as he got up, then pushed through the crowd towards the bar. Busy pulling out his wallet, when he looked up to catch the bartender’s attention, he realized too late he was standing right behind Clarke. She was just paying her bill, then leaned on the counter, hips cocked out, as she waited for her order. Bellamy groaned under his breath, trying to keep his distance. The ‘youths’ were rowdy though, and kept bumping into him from behind. Then an elbow landed in the small of his back, and he fell forward. His hand latched onto her waist, as his hips fit right against her ass.

_Shit._

Immediately she whipped around, expression indignant. Anger rolled in quickly once she recognized him.

“What the hell,” she hissed. “You think you’re being funny.”

“Accident,” he bit out, because sure, he had run that morning after, but she didn’t have to straight up _ignore_ him since then. Then he grimaced, checking his pride. “Really, someone bumped into me. It wasn’t intentional.”

She scoffed, startling when the bartender knocked some bottles against her elbows propped back on the bar. Turning, she grabbed them, still scowling.

“You’re not getting a second chance,” she muttered as she pushed by him. “So take your goddamn large hands elsewhere.”

If he was a selfless bastard, he’d let her go, let himself believe the red in her cheeks was from anger, not attraction. He was a good man, but, well, he wasn’t a saint.

So he gently grabbed her arm, halting her. His fingers slipped as she stopped. They were loose enough that she could tug away; she didn’t.

“You seemed to like my large…hands a few weeks ago,” he whispered in her ear. Close as she was, he could smell her perfume, floral and sharp.

She leaned in, wavering towards him. A pink flush rose over her chest, and Bellamy suppressed a shiver as she licked her lips and looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since they had laid breathless in bed, sweaty and more wrapped up in one another than they had a right to be for a one-night stand. There was a spark in her eyes, the same one that had been there that night, right before her mouth had crashed up into his.

Then someone jostled into them, and the moment snapped.

“Fuck you,” she muttered under her breath before twisting away.

Bellamy let her go. He wasn’t a saint, but he was a good man. And a good man wouldn’t pursue someone like Clarke–a friend of his sister’s, an undergrad, a girl who liked to fuck him but maybe didn’t actually like _him._

He ordered a shot of whiskey with his beer, letting the burning liquor purge away the lingering taste of her lips that he couldn’t forget no matter how hard he tried.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be definitely be a part 2 (Clarke POV) and maybe a part 3? Depending on where part 2 ends.
> 
> Also considering doing other pairings in this verse? Minty? Linctavia? More Wellven? Lemme know!


End file.
